


Strong

by lostresidentevilpotter



Series: What If? [10]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:42:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22037992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: Martha kills Morgan, and the rest of the group learns what it really means to be strong.Set in season 4. Al/Alicia with a side of John/June.
Relationships: Althea & Alicia Clark, Althea & June (Fear the Walking Dead), Althea/Alicia Clark, John Dorie/June
Series: What If? [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1456003
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	Strong

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! I had a rough semester (and have another rough one coming). Work has been stressful, and I am also recently single, but I'm glad I finally finished one of my many ongoing projects! I'm not even sure I've got any readers left (especially since the show is on hiatus), but to those of you who do read this, I hope you enjoy it!

Morgan places the box next to mile marker 19 and pulls the marker from his pocket. Martha had warned him that leaving these boxes along the road made him weak. Whatever that means. Helping people doesn’t make you weak, he thinks. He writes _take what you need, leave what you don’t_ on the flap of the box and caps the marker. He pauses to admire his work, and a searing pain cuts through his neck. A set of teeth latch onto him from behind, and he turns in surprise, just enough to catch sight of Martha before too much blood spurts from his neck and causes him to lose consciousness.

Martha shakes her head, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I warned you, Morgan,” she says. The life hasn’t quite left his eyes yet, but she doubts he can comprehend her words. “You’ll be strong now,” she adds.

Across his face, she writes _I lose people…I lose myself._

*

“Try again,” Al orders.

June sighs but nods. “Morgan, do you copy?” she says into the walkie. Silence. “Morgan?”

Nothing. They can’t reach John, and now, Morgan’s disappeared, too. _I just have one last thing to take care of_ he’d said over the walkie. _I’ll be right back. We’ll find a place to meet_.

“Do you think something happened?” June asks.

Al swipes at the sweat beading on her forehead with the back of her hand. “I don’t know,” Al admits. “Maybe he’s just out of range. Keep trying every half hour.”

“When do we give up?” June asks.

“We won’t give up,” Al replies. She squints against the sunlight and shakes her head. “Nightfall,” she says. “If we don’t have a response by nightfall, we’ll go looking.”

“We’re low on fuel,” June reminds. “We don’t know where he is, and I –” June cuts herself off, but Al waits for her to continue. “I need to find John,” June says.

“I know,” Al says. “But we aren’t going to find anyone by staying parked on the side of the road.” Thunder rumbles overhead in spite of the currently sunny skies, and Al grimaces. “Looks like we’re staying here for today,” Al says. “Keep trying in the van.”

“And what’re you going to do?”

Al grins. “I’m gonna take a nap,” she says.

“A nap?”

“I don’t feel well,” Al dismisses. “Probably because we’re rationing food. It’s nothing.”

June watches her warily. The sun begins to disappear behind the clouds, and they both take shelter in the van. The hurricane hasn’t given up quite yet. Al locks them in and unbuttons her shirt, tossing it with her belongings. She’s hot and cold at the same time, however that happens, and she slides beneath a pile of blankets on her side of the van. She presses her cheek against the cool metal and closes her eyes as June settles across the aisle, clutching the walkie to her chest.

Before Al drifts off, she hears John’s voice coming quietly out of her camera.

*

Alicia has to keep turning back to make sure Charlie’s still following her. The rain is relentless, and Alicia holds her leather jacket above her head in an attempt to shield herself. They walk along the side of the road, the sound of the rain making it impossible to carry a conversation. That’s good with Alicia. She doesn’t know what to say to Charlie anyway. Neither of them has said much since Alicia pointed a gun at Charlie’s head.

Alicia hears the muffled sound of the walkie from her backpack, but she doesn’t dare pull it out in this rain. She turns back, spots Charlie, and shouts, “Someone’s close! They’re on the walkie!”

Charlie nods. She has an umbrella, but it’s about as good as Alicia’s jacket in this kind of rain. They’re both soaked to the bone anyway. Water sloshes around in Alicia’s boots. She considers stopping at a convenience store or something along the way, but what’s the point? The rain won’t let up.

They keep walking. Alicia finds it in herself to push forward. She stays alert, constantly searching for walkers. She’s so focused on looking for walkers that she doesn’t see the box sitting by mile marker 19.

“Alicia!” Charlie calls. Alicia turns back, but Charlie isn’t behind her. She’s on the opposite side of the road next to the mile marker, where a box rests beside it.

“Hey, be careful!” Alicia warns. She jogs across the road and gives up on keeping her jacket over her head. She slings it around her shoulders and crouches beside Charlie. “What is it?”

“A box,” Charlie says.

Alicia rolls her eyes. “I can see that. I mean, what’s in it?”

“That’s not what you asked.”

Alicia blinks. Maybe if Charlie had sassed her like this while they were trapped in the basement, Alicia could’ve pulled the trigger. Alicia shakes her head and pulls the box open. Something was written on the inside flap, but the water has made it unreadable. The box itself is breaking down, but the supplies inside are unharmed.

Alicia slips the backpack off her shoulders. “Pack them,” she says. “We need to keep moving.”

She swears she hears a walker. Alicia stands, squinting against the rain. It’s coming down harder now. She tries to spot where the growling is coming from.

She whips around, her hand on the gun barrel at her hip, at the same time that Charlie cries out, “Alicia!”

Alicia hits the pavement hard, momentarily dazing her. She barely manages to get her arms up to hold off the walker, but she realizes it’s being pushed at her. There are two figures – one, the walker pinning her down, and two, the person controlling the walker. Charlie screams, and when Alicia’s vision clears, she realizes why.

The walker is Morgan. _Was_ Morgan.

“He was weak,” Martha shouts over the rain. “But you two aren’t weak, are you?”

Alicia fumbles to get the Glock off her belt while she holds Morgan off with her other hand. His jaws snap, and she strains to keep her face away from his teeth. When her hand comes up empty, she remembers why.

She gave the goddamn Glock to Charlie.

*

Being trapped in a cabin on an island during a hurricane could be worse. The cabin has a nice fireplace, though, so the place stays warm during the storm and after it passes. The closet is stocked with games, and the office has a bookshelf crammed full of books. The cabinet is full of wine, the long dead fridge full of beer.

Frankly, waiting out the hurricane might as well be a vacation. John’s too worried about June to see it like that, but Strand stretches out on the couch with a glass of wine and an old _People_ magazine that he found in the bathroom.

“Can you believe people used to care about stuff like this?” Strand laughs. He sips his wine and looks over to the armchair Luci’s curled up in. “It’s ridiculous,” he adds.

Luci smiles sadly. “You know, most of those people are probably dead.”

“Probably,” Strand agrees. “They probably all died when Los Angeles was destroyed. But look.” He flips the magazine around. “Ricky Martin is gay!”

Luci snorts. “You know there are actual books here.”

Strand smiles. “This is much more entertaining,” he replies. He looks around the cabin for a moment. “What happened to the cowboy?”

“He went out for some air,” Luci says.

“The storm’s over?”

Luci blinks. “The storm ended yesterday.”

This appears to be news to Strand, but he shrugs and flips the page of the magazine. “Do you think Brad Pitt made it out?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Luci replies. “I’m gonna go check on John.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Yeah, but just in case,” Luci says.

“Be careful,” Strand warns. “The storm might not be completely over.”

Well, it’s over for now. Luci steps out onto the porch, and though the sky is dark, no rain falls. She finds John chopping wood out back, and he looks over as she walks up.

“The rain could come back,” Luci says.

“We need firewood,” John replies. He nudges his hat back and splits another hunk of wood in two. “As soon as we’re sure the rain’s gone, we need to start searching for June.”

“And Alicia,” Luci reminds. “And Al and Charlie. Morgan.”

“Right,” John says.

“We’ll find her, John,” Luci assures him. “We’ll find them all.”

He’s not so sure, but Luci knows in her gut they’ll be reunited. She’s not worried in the slightest, so for now, she might as well drink wine with Strand and read.

*

Al wakes up cold but drenched in sweat. June sets the camera aside and rushes over to Al, concern laced into her features.

“How are you feeling?” June asks. She presses the back of her hand to Al’s forehead, and she groggily swats June’s hand away.

“I’m fine,” Al insists. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re burning up.”

“It’s just because of the blankets.”

Al kicks the blankets off and shivers against the rush of cold air. She starts to sit up, but June shoves her back down.

“Al, you’re not okay,” June says. “You’re sweating through your clothes.”

“That happens sometimes,” Al lies weakly. She pushes her hand through her hair, and sure enough, it’s like she’s just stepped out of the shower. “Okay, it’s kind of gross. But I swear, I’m fine.”

June sends her a sharp look. “Don’t get up,” she says. She gets Al a bottle of water. “Stay hydrated. Let me know if anything changes.”

Al drinks water obediently and peels her tank top away from her torso. It’s no use. It still clings to her when she lets go. She stays down, as ordered, and when June asks her where she keeps her medical supplies, Al hands over her keys and points at her safe. June goes through everything Al has on hand and turns to face her.

“You don’t have any antibiotics?”

“No,” Al says.

“How do you not have antibiotics?”

Al smiles sheepishly. “I may have traded what I had for a story a little while back.”

“Al!”

“What?” Al says. “I didn’t need them.”

“Well, you might need them now. Who knows what this could be?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Al says. “I’ve had worse.”

“It could be cholera,” June snaps. “Dengue fever. Malaria.”

Al busts out laughing. “It’s not malaria, June. Don’t overreact.”

“This isn’t funny, Al. People die from things like this now.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve talked to a lot of people.”

Before June can respond, the walkie crackles to life. “Luci? Strand? Does anybody copy?”

June rushes to grab the walkie. “I copy,” June says.

There’s a pause before Alicia says, “June? Is that you?”

“Yes,” June says. “I’m here with Al. Where are you?”

Another pause. “I don’t think it’s safe to broadcast our location,” Alicia says.

“Look, Alicia,” June says, “Al is sick. She needs antibiotics. Give us a place to meet you, and we’ll pick you up and take off.”

After _another_ pause, Alicia says, “Okay. Let me find a good spot.”

*

A gunshot rings out, startling Alicia. Martha stumbles back, and that gives Alicia the leverage she needs to shove Morgan off of her and scramble to her feet. She yanks the gun barrel from her belt and shoves it through Morgan’s skull. As his body drops, Alicia can just make out the faint writing on his face.

_I lose people…I lose myself._

The significance of the words is lost on Alicia.

The bullet clipped Martha in the shoulder, and Alicia doesn’t want to stick around to find out how if that’s enough to stop her. She grabs the backpack and Charlie’s arm and takes off running. The heavy rain helps to conceal them, and Alicia doesn’t stop running until she has trouble breathing.

“Do you think we’re far enough away?” Charlie gasps.

“I don’t know,” Alicia admits. “Let’s keep moving.”

“Okay,” Charlie agrees.

The rain is finally easing up a bit. Alicia pushes her hair back from her face. She looks over at Charlie and hesitates before reaching over and clapping her on the shoulder. When Charlie looks up at her inquisitively, Alicia smiles and says, “Nice shot.”

Charlie laughs and blushes. “I was aiming for her head,” she says.

Alicia laughs too and says, “Close enough.”

The walkie in the backpack makes muffled sounds again, and now that the rain’s beginning to stop, Alicia digs it out.

“Morgan, do you copy? John, do you copy? Does anyone copy?”

“Wait,” Charlie says, stopping Alicia from answering. “That woman – what if she’s listening?”

Alicia exhales. “Okay, let’s get farther away first,” she says. “But we need to stay in range.”

“Maybe we’re closer than we think,” Charlie says. It’s wishful thinking, but Alicia just nods. As they keep walking, Alicia hopes her clothes will begin to dry out.

*

Luci laughs so hard, she nearly spills her wine on herself. Strand laughs long after she’s stopped, but he motions for her to hand the magazine over so he can read the article for himself.

“Johnny,” Strand calls, looking over the side of the couch toward where John sits at the kitchen table, alone, with a bowl filled with canned fruit. “Do you remember when Lindsay Lohan went to prison?” Strand asks. He holds up the magazine, but John barely spares him a glance.

“No.”

“You’re no fun,” Strand says. He’s buzzed, just like Luci, which has made the collection of celebrity magazines Strand unearthed from beneath the bed even funnier. Whoever lived here really had a thing for celebrity magazines, apparently.

“I’m trying to be productive,” John replies. “Instead of just lying around reading celebrity trash.”

“Why should we be productive?” Strand questions. “We never get a break, right Luci? We should enjoy it while it lasts.”

John would, if June was here. Safe. He’s not even sure she’s alive. He should’ve stayed with her. He couldn’t have known a hurricane was going to roll in, but he still never should’ve left her side. He swears to himself he won’t leave her again once they’re reunited.

Luci and Strand continue to laugh at the magazines and drink wine. Luci hasn’t had this much fun since – well, she doesn’t even know when.

*

Luckily, Alicia and Charlie aren’t too far. By the time the van pulls up to the convenience store, they’re running on fumes. As June puts the van in park, Alicia and Charlie step out of the store. They’re both soaked through from the rain earlier, and Alicia rushes from the convenience store to the steps of the van with Charlie on her heels. Alicia looks around as if something’s going to get them, and June steps aside and lets them in.

“Are you okay?” June asks. “Did something happen?”

“We need to leave,” Alicia says. “She could be coming.”

“Who?” June asks.

Alicia looks to Charlie before she answers, “The woman who killed Morgan.”

“What?”

Both Alicia and Charlie jump as Al speaks and pushes herself up from the seats. June grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her back down as sweat drips off the ends of her hair. Al swats at June as her eyes lock onto Alicia.

“What do you _mean_ the woman who killed Morgan?” Al demands weakly.

Alicia swallows and looks from June to Al. “I mean, there’s a woman out there who killed Morgan and attacked us with the walker version of him. We barely escaped, and I’m sure she’s coming for us. We need to leave. We need to find Luci, Strand, and John and _leave_.”

June purses her lips. Al drops her head back down, exhaling and staring up at the ceiling. “We’re almost out of diesel,” June admits. “I don’t think we’re going to get very far, and John must not be in range, because he hasn’t answered our calls.”

“Well, she’s injured,” Charlie pipes up. “That woman. I shot her in the shoulder.”

“That should slow her down,” June says. “We’ll find a different location nearby and wait to see if John gets within range soon. Besides, we can’t really move until Al’s better.”

“You said she needs antibiotics,” Alicia reminds. “Where are we gonna get those?”

June smiles. “We passed a pharmacy on our way here. But first, you need to get out of those wet clothes.”

*

Alicia isn’t thrilled at the idea of stripping down in front of Al. She hasn’t known Al very long, but she knows Al’s always got some kind of smartass comment ready. Alicia doubts being sick will stop Al. June hands Alicia a bundle of clothes, and Alicia takes them reluctantly. Her jeans have molded to her legs, and she has a hard time getting out of them. Her underwear’s still damp, but she doesn’t dare deal with that. She pulls the pair of sweats on and ties them securely before she tears her wet tank top off and slides into a shirt that must be Al’s.

“Don’t say anything,” Alicia warns. She buttons the shirt to her neck as Al grins.

“Like what?” Al says. “What would I say?”

“Something stupid.”

Al chuckles and swallows hard. “I don’t have anything to say,” she says quietly. “Except you should fix the collar. It looks dumb.”

Alicia rolls her eyes but adjusts the collar so it lays flat. Alicia looks Al over for a moment as she rolls the sleeves halfway up her forearms. Apart from being sweaty, she’s too pale. But when she notices Alicia’s eyes are on her, her lips twist into a smile.

“You’re staring,” Al says.

“You’ve looked better,” Alicia quips.

“Please,” Al snorts. She swipes her hand across her forehead and flicks sweat toward the floor. “I still look hot.”

Alicia makes a face. “You’ve got quite the ego, huh?”

Al smiles. “You don’t know me, Alicia.”

“I know enough.”

“Ready?” June calls from the front. “We’ve got to raid the pharmacy.”

*

Luci and Strand pass out on their respective pieces of furniture, their empty wine glasses scattered on the floor amongst the celebrity magazines. Strand snores loudly, but John has to get up to make sure Luci’s actually asleep. Once he’s sure they’re both out, he takes the walkie and disappears into the bedroom.

“June, do you copy?” he says. He only gets static, like he expects. The island is isolated, probably insanely out of range from wherever June is. John just hopes she’s not alone. The sun will set soon, and he can’t imagine being out there all by himself. He was alone in his cabin for a long time, but at least he had a stable, safe home.

“June, if you can hear me,” he says, “I’m going to do everything I possibly can to get back to you, and then I’m never gonna leave your side again. You hear me? I’m never gonna leave again.”

She can’t hear him. If she could, she’d respond. John sighs and pulls his hat from his head. Luci and Strand are going to sleep off their day of drinking in the living room, so John claims the bed for himself. He sets his hat and the walkie on the bedside table and lies in the middle of the bed, on top of all the covers. He stares up at the ceiling, hands folded over his stomach, and thinks about June until he falls asleep.

*

“It’s going to be dark soon,” June says. “We’ll try to make this quick.”

Martha’s probably after them. Alicia can’t shake the feeling that she’s going to pop up and attack them with another walker at any moment.

“Alicia, come on,” June says.

Alicia hesitates, glancing over at Al. Alicia doesn’t think she’s asleep – her breathing is too uneven – but her eyes are closed. “We can’t leave Al in here alone,” Alicia says.

“Charlie can stay.”

“Charlie can’t defend them,” Alicia says. “No offense. You take Charlie, and I’ll stay and protect the van and Al.”

June thinks this over but nods and motions for Charlie to follow her. Charlie looks to Alicia for assurance, and Alicia nods and shuts the doors behind them. Alicia watches through the window to make sure they make it into the pharmacy safely before she does a check of her weapons. Gun barrel. Loaded Glock. Al’s trench spikes are sitting on the shelf above her head, and her rifle is propped against the wall off in the corner. If Martha manages to find them, Alicia thinks the odds are in their favor.

“You could’ve gone with June.”

Alicia nearly jumps out of her skin, whipping around to face Al. She must not have the energy to sit up anymore, because she doesn’t bother to try. She swallows hard and throws her blankets back. Her tank top is soaked through with sweat, and Alicia stands frozen until Al’s fingers fumble with the buckle of her belt.

“What are you doing?” Alicia stutters.

Al pauses with her belt undone, lifting her eyes to Alicia’s face. “Can you see me, Alicia?” she asks. “I’m, like, drowning in my own sweat. It’s disgusting, so I’m taking my pants off. Do you have a problem?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Alicia mutters.

“It’s a hundred fucking degrees in here.”

“It’s not,” Alicia says. “It’s not even warm.”

Alicia crosses over to Al’s side and places her hand on Al’s forehead. Al knocks her hand away and says, “Help me get my pants off. They’re stuck to me.”

“You’re a mess,” Alicia says.

“I’d hold back your judgment, if I were you,” Al replies. In one swift movement, Alicia frees her from her pants then takes a step back. “Your life’s not exactly well put together, Alicia.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Alicia says.

“I’m surprised the kid is still alive,” Al admits. “After everything we went through, with John getting shot and all.”

“We don’t have to do this,” Alicia says sharply.

“Do what?”

“Reminisce,” Alicia answers. “I didn’t kill Charlie.”

“Why?”

“Don’t do that,” Alicia warns. She takes a seat on the other side of the van and leans back against the wall.

“Do what?”

“Your stupid journalist shtick.”

“There’s no camera here, sweetheart. It’s just a question.”

“You’re prying.”

“So?”

Alicia glares. “So mind your own business.”

“You could’ve gone with June,” Al points out. “Charlie and I would’ve been fine.”

“Unless that psychopath finds us,” Alicia snaps. “She’d kill you both.”

Al exhales and rolls onto her back. “Tell me what happened,” Al requests. “Not because I’m looking for a story,” she adds quickly before Alicia can tell her to fuck off. “Tell me what happened to Morgan.”

Oh. Alicia thinks Morgan was Al’s friend. “I don’t really know,” Alicia says. “This bitch snuck up on me and Charlie with Morgan. He was – he was already a walker, and she had him, like restrained or something. She could control him. She said something about Morgan being weak and asked if we were weak, too.” Alicia shakes her head, wets her lips with the tip of her tongue. “He would’ve killed me if Charlie hadn’t shot her,” Alicia says. “The bullet hit her in the shoulder, so she’s still alive.”

“And Morgan?”

“I killed him,” Alicia says. She watches Al swallow hard and close her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Better than leaving him to exist as one of those things.”

Alicia nods then hesitates. “He had something written on his face,” she says. “ _I lose people…I lose myself_. Do you – do you know what that means?”

Al’s eyebrows pull together. Their eyes lock, and after a long pause, Al breathes out, “No. I have no clue.”

Alicia presses her lips together, eyes narrowing. “You should drink water,” she suggests, hoping Al will let her change the subject. “You’re sweating a lot.”

“I’m aware.”

Alicia gets up to get Al water. Al sits up just enough to be able to swallow it, but Alicia has to help her hold the bottle. Alicia leaves the bottle within Al’s reach and goes to peer out the window. Nothing has changed, except the sun is closer to setting, and she can just make out movement within the pharmacy.

“I am sorry,” Alicia says, surprising herself. She turns back toward Al. “About Morgan. I know he was your friend.”

Al snorts. “Yeah, I guess,” she mutters. “I don’t really have friends.”

Alicia’s eyebrows pull together. “But – all you do is talk to people.”

“Yeah,” Al says. “Lots of people. I’m never with anyone long enough to be able to call them a friend.”

“What about June?”

“She’s probably the one person I can reasonably call a friend, and that’s only because we waited out a hurricane together.”

“I mean, it’s not a bad strategy,” Alicia says. “Not making friends. That means you have less people to lose.”

Al inhales deeply and motions for Alicia to come closer. Alicia takes a few tentative steps toward Al and waits. “We’re going to find them,” Al says. “Luci and Strand. We’re going to find your friends.”

“I know,” Alicia lies. “You should try to rest.”

“All I’ve been doing is resting,” Al says. “I can stay awake.”

“You need to get better. You can’t die without making a friend first,” Alicia teases.

“I have June,” Al reminds. “I think I’m good if I die.”

“You won’t die. June will get the antibiotics you need.”

Al gives a small shake of her head. “She would’ve been back by now if she’d found anything.”

“They haven’t been gone that long. They’re probably taking everything useful.” Alicia hesitates but grasps onto Al’s shoulder. “You’re not gonna die,” Alicia says. “If anyone’s going to live through the goddamn apocalypse, it’s going to be you.”

Al cracks a weak smile. “That’s oddly nice of you, considering just a couple months ago you tried to feed me to the dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Alicia murmurs. “I was – I don’t know. I can’t – I won’t – defend myself. I did the wrong thing.”

“You’d lost your mom,” Al says softly. “Your brother. I don’t blame you for how you acted. I know what it’s like.”

Alicia blinks away the sudden stinging in her eyes and looks away. Before she can release Al’s shoulder, Al lays her palm over the back of Alicia’s hand. Alicia startles and meets Al’s gaze, and Al manages a lopsided, but pained, smile.

Alicia clears her throat and says, “You’ll be alright.”

She tries to take her hand back, but Al grabs it with surprising strength, stopping her from walking away. Alicia raises her eyebrows, but Al says, “You need to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll do what you did for Morgan for me,” Al says. “Promise me you won’t let me be one of them.”

“I – it won’t come to that,” Alicia says.

“But if it does,” Al says. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Alicia says. “But you’re going to be okay.”

Al’s eyes close, and she gives a slight nod. “I know,” she lies. “But you owe me for trying to feed me to walkers, so –”

“I promise,” Alicia repeats. “But it won’t be necessary.”

“If we’re lucky.”

Alicia smiles and brushes Al’s sweaty bangs back from her forehead with her free hand. “Just take it easy,” Alicia says. “June will be back soon.”

Al releases Alicia’s hand, but Alicia doesn’t immediately move away. She hesitates for a half second before Al whispers, “Put your hand on my forehead.”

“What?” Alicia says dumbly.

“Put your hand on my forehead,” Al says. “It’s cold.”

Alicia’s heart beats faster, but she gently lays her palm over Al’s forehead. Al’s still troublingly warm, but she sighs contentedly and her eyes stay closed. The smart thing to do would be to stay quiet, but Alicia feels a strange need to fill the silence that’s settled over them.

“I know Morgan considered you a friend,” Alicia says. She doesn’t really _know_ , but she can assume as much. “And despite what you want everyone to think, I know you care about more than just the story. I know you care that he’s dead. And if you need to talk about it – I mean, June’s here.”

Al barks a short laugh and opens her eyes. “You know, I really thought for a second there you were gonna offer to talk, but sure, shove me off on June.”

Alicia smiles wryly. “You’re already using my hand as an icepack. What more do you want?”

“You’re wearing my clothes,” Al reminds.

“You were shielded from the rain by this van,” Alicia retorts. “I was out _there_ getting poured on and being attacked by the walker version of Morgan.”

“Well, you’re here now,” Al says. “And we’ll get John, Luci, and Strand and be on our way.”

“So you’re going to stay?” Alicia asks.

“Are you?”

Alicia shrugs and makes a noncommittal sound. She swaps hands, and as her palm molds against Al’s forehead, Al lets out a small, pleased sound. Alicia swallows hard, hating how her heart feels like it’s in her throat.

“That’s a problem for later,” Alicia says. “When you’re better.”

A knock on the back door scares Alicia, and she quickly retracts her hand and goes to let June and Charlie in.

“Did you get it?” Alicia asks.

“We got a lot,” Charlie answers. “Filled the whole bag almost.”

Alicia looks to June, and June just nods. “Hopefully what we’ve got will work,” she says. “I don’t know what she has, honestly. We just have to hope for the best.”

“Do we have enough diesel to move somewhere else? Somewhere more secluded, maybe?” Alicia asks.

June sighs wearily. “There’s a wooded area close by. I’ll move the van there if you’ll get Al to take the antibiotics. Starting tomorrow, we need to look for a source of diesel.”

Alicia agrees. Al, thankfully, takes the antibiotics with no difficulty as June drives them off. Alicia ushers Charlie up into the front with June and makes her buckle her seatbelt. Alicia turns back to Al and resents the disappointment that washes over her when she realizes Al’s asleep.

*

June wakes up first and peels the side of her face off the window. She blinks a few times and looks to her right, spotting Charlie curled up in the passenger’s seat. The sun’s barely up, but June grabs the walkie and immediately tries to call John.

“John, are you there?” she asks softly. “It’s June. If you can hear me, we’re looking for you, okay? We’re going to find you. We’ll be together again soon.”

Static. June expects no less. She sighs and sets the walkie aside then climbs into the back with Alicia and Al. Alicia sleeps to June’s left, one blanket draped over the lower half of her body, her arms serving as her pillow. Al’s on the other side, tangled in her multiple blankets, her tank top riding halfway up her stomach. She’s still sweaty, but when June touches the back of her hand to Al’s forehead, she isn’t as warm as she’s been. June takes that as a good sign and leaves her be. There’s work to do.

June consults their collection of maps in search for some place nearby that might have diesel. She hates to think they might have to go on foot. Al’s still in no shape to make a trip like that. June chews on her lower lip and considers what Alicia’s reaction to staying behind with Al might be. If they can’t find a close source of diesel, this could easily be a day – or more – long trip.

June thinks over all their options until Alicia stirs. Alicia sits up, looking mildly confused for a moment before her eyes land on June. “What’s going on?” she mumbles.

“We need diesel,” June says. She might as well cut right to the chase. “Al can’t make a trip like that in her condition, but Charlie and I can go out. I’m just afraid it could take a while if we don’t get lucky.”

Alicia nods and rubs at her eyes. “Leave me behind,” she says. “I’ll watch her. We both have walkies, so take yours, stay in touch. Don’t give away your location or ours in case that bitch is listening. Just keep me updated.”

“Of course,” June says. “You guys should have plenty of food and water for at least a week, but we won’t stay out nearly that long.”

“You’ll find it,” Alicia says. “Just be careful. That woman clearly isn’t in her right mind, and she’s out there, hunting anyone she comes across.” Alicia pauses, but she adds, “Take care of Charlie.”

“We’ll be fine,” June assures her. She pats the revolver at her hip – borrowed from John. “We can handle one person, sane or not.”

“Just be careful,” Alicia says. “She has a tendency to sneak up on you.”

“We’ll be fine,” June repeats. “Take care of Al. Make sure she takes the antibiotics and drinks water. See if she’ll eat anything. Radio if anything goes wrong.”

“Got it.”

June stands, folding up the map. “And take care of yourself,” she says.

“We’ll be fine,” Alicia teases. She jerks her head toward the door. “Wake Charlie and go. The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

June hesitates. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Keep trying to radio John,” June says quietly.

“Only if you try while you’re out there,” Alicia says. “Stay within range, okay? Report back.”

“I will.”

June goes to wake Charlie and packs a bag. June spares a glance back at the van before walking off, watches Alicia pull the door shut and hears the lock click.

“Let’s try to keep this trip as short as possible, okay?” June says. She hands Charlie the walkie. “Keep that handy. We’re going to try to reach the others.”

Charlie nods solemnly. “We’ll find him,” she says. “I know we will.”

June smiles and nods. She wishes she could be as certain as Charlie.

*

John only sleeps a couple of hours, and he lies awake until the sun rises. When he steps into the living room, Strand’s still snoring on the couch, but Luci has transferred herself from the armchair to the floor at some point, sleeping with her cheek pressed against the faux fur rug. John bets today will hold the same activities as the past few days. Day drinking and magazine reading.

John makes himself a quick breakfast and eats it at the kitchen table. He takes his time and cleans up after himself, all while Strand and Luci sleep. He places his hat back on his head and pulls his jacket on. He loads his revolver – just the one; he’d left the other with June – and tucks it into the holster at his hip. He stores the remaining bullets in the pocket inside his jacket then picks up the walkie.

“June, do you copy?” he says. Like the past hundred times he’s tried, he receives no answer. “I’m coming for you, June,” he says, just in case. “I’m going to find you.”

John places Strand and Luci’s weapons on the coffee table, within their reach, and makes sure all the doors and windows are secured. They’d boarded up the windows for the hurricane, so all John really has to do is lock the door behind him. The cabin is so isolated, he doubts anything will make their way here, but even if a walker did, it wouldn’t be able to get inside. He tells himself not to feel guilty for taking off.

He needs to find June.

*

Alicia stays on edge until Al wakes up in the early afternoon. She keeps peering out the windows, looking for any signs that something’s out of place. She can’t help but to expect to see Martha and her walker about to stroll up. Alicia checks that the doors are locked more than once. She keeps the Glock on her.

Al wakes up, grunting, and Alicia immediately holds the antibiotics out. Al takes the antibiotics without question, swallowing them with a healthy amount of water. Al struggles to sit up, leaning against the van for support, and looks around the van.

“Where’s June and the kid?” Al asks.

“They went out to find diesel,” Alicia says softly. “It’s just you and me.”

Al blinks. “Oh.”

Alicia nods. “Do you want to eat?”

Al waves her hand in dismissal. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” she says. “I’m fine.”

Alicia stares at her warily. “Just please don’t try to get up,” Alicia says.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Al replies, but she grins widely and throws Alicia a wink. She runs her hand through her hair, still damp with sweat, and makes a face. “I need to shower,” Al declares.

Alicia snorts. “Good luck with that. I don’t think we have enough water.”

“If it rains again, I’m going out in it,” Al says.

“Don’t jinx us.”

Too late. Not even an hour later, thunder booms and water pours out of the sky. Al shrugs and says, “Maybe I was a meteorologist in another life.”

“Shut up.”

Al smirks. “I’m going out there.”

“Yeah? Can you even stand?”

“We’re going to find out, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

They stare at each other from across the aisle. Alicia struggles to keep her eyes from straying from Al’s face, since she’s still only wearing underwear and a tank top.

“I should’ve gone for diesel with Charlie,” Alicia says.

“Why? You’re gonna have so much more fun being trapped in this tank with me. In fact, I’m kinda glad June went out. She’s such a worrier.” Al swings her legs off the seats and sits upright. She pauses a moment, gives herself a chance to adjust to being seated upright without leaning into anything for support. “You know?” Al says. “All she does is try to touch me to see if I’m warm and worry about how much water I’m drinking. You’re not gonna do that, are you?”

“You said you can take care of yourself,” Alicia says carefully. “But June told me to take care of you.”

Al laughs. “Of course she did. She worries. Look, I’m pretty sure I’m not going to die now, okay? So I’m gonna go out in that rain and wash off the days of sweat I’ve been wearing.”

Al stands, and Alicia jumps to her feet, holding her hands out. Al doesn’t fall, though, and Alicia hesitates. “Wait,” Alicia says. “What if – what if that crazy bitch is out there?”

Al’s eyebrows raise. “ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?”

“She tried to kill me and Charlie,” Alicia says flatly. “So yes, I’m worried. She’s insane. She keeps walkers as pets and kills people with them.”

“Wait, that bitch that was messing with Morgan on the walkie?” Al asks. “What’s her name? Martha?”

“Yeah, her.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Al says. “That bitch won’t get me. Promise.”

Al winks at Alicia again, and Alicia rolls her eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Alicia calls.

“Stop worrying about me,” Al says over her shoulder. She makes a point of grabbing the rifle out of the corner before she steps out into the rain.

It’d be creepy for Alicia to watch Al, even if she’s intending to keep watch for any signs of Martha, so she doesn’t. She sits in the back with her hands clasped between her legs, one leg bouncing incessantly as she chews on her lower lip. Within five minutes, though, Al steps back into the van and sets the rifle aside.

“It’s fucking cold,” Al says, visibly shivering. She flashes Alicia a smile, and Alicia’s face reddens as Al dries off and changes into fresh clothes. Alicia carefully averts her gaze until Al drops heavily onto the seats across from her. “That really took all the energy out of me,” she admits. She slicks her hair back from her face, grins at Alicia, and adds, “But it was worth it.”

“Great,” Alicia grumbles. “I’m so glad.”

At least Al spends the rest of the day in a good mood. She refuses to stop calling Alicia _sweetheart_ though, and Alicia thinks telling her to stop only encourages her to keep doing it. They eat a quiet dinner on opposite sides of the van, and June and Charlie check in. They haven’t found enough diesel yet, but June is still hopeful. Before the sun sets, Alicia does a quick check of their surroundings, the Glock in her hand. She stares up the road for a long time, as if Martha’s going to suddenly appear, being led by a walker.

“Hey!”

Alicia jumps and spins around, her finger braced against the trigger guard. “Jesus,” Alicia breathes. “What?”

“What’re you doing?” Al asks. She looks warily from Alicia to where Alicia had been staring, up the road. “Come back in here,” Al says. “It’s getting dark.”

Alicia doesn’t argue. She spares one last glance up the road then rejoins Al in the van. Even though Al’s feeling better, she still goes to bed early. Alicia lies down as if she’s going to sleep, too, but she stares up at the ceiling and listens to Al’s even breathing for what feels like hours.

Al has no trouble sleeping, but Alicia can’t even make herself close her eyes.

*

June and Charlie are thorough in their search for diesel. They check every gas station they pass by, siphon as much diesel out of abandoned vehicles as they can. It amounts to, well, not enough. They keep trying, and every so often, they try to radio John.

They hole up in an SUV for the night, and June tries to radio John one last time.

“I’m out here, John,” June says. “I’m going to find you.”

*

“He’s gone!”

“What do you mean, _he’s gone_?”

“I mean, John isn’t fucking here, Strand!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Where would he go?”

They both know the answer.

*

John hotwires a car and drives until it runs out of gas. He doesn’t let that slow him down. He tries to radio June, on the hour every hour, but he still doesn’t get a response.

“I’m coming,” he says into the radio. “I’m out here, June. I’m going to find you.”

*

_Promise me you won’t let me be one of them_.

Alicia bolts upright, gasping. The dream feels real – too real. Alicia’s hand presses to the side of her neck to assure herself there’s no gaping wound there. And there isn’t, but she can still feel Al’s teeth sinking into soft flesh. Alicia pants and squints through the darkness across the van. Al is exactly where she’s been, asleep on the other side. Alicia wipes the sweat from her forehead and tries to shake off the nightmare.

She can’t. Every time her eyes close, she sees the dream again. In it, Al draws her last breath. Alicia’s grip tightens on the gun barrel, but she can’t do it. She doesn’t know what stops her; she just can’t do it. Al’s eyes open, no longer hazel.

Alicia finally lowers her hand from her neck. Her hand trembles, but she clenches it into a fist to make it stop. She’s had worse nightmares. At least, that’s what she tells herself.

Alicia gets up to get water. She gulps down half the bottle without pause then splashes a conservative amount on her face, hoping it’ll help her calm down. On her way back to her side of the van, she accidentally knocks something off a shelf. It clangs to the floor, and the sound echoes around the van, just loud enough to cause Al to stir.

“Shit,” Alicia hisses.

“What’s going on?” Al mumbles.

“Go back to sleep,” Alicia says.

“Why are you up?”

“I woke up,” Alicia says. “Just – please.”

Goddamn it. Her voice breaks, and she bets that’s the reason Al sits up instead of listening to her. Al fumbles to switch on a light, which casts the inside of the van in an eerie glow.

“Did something happen?” Al asks.

“No,” Alicia insists. “Let’s just forget this, okay? Let’s go back to sleep.”

Al stares at her from across the van. “Is it the nightmares?” Al guesses.

“What – no. I don’t – I don’t have nightmares.”

Al grins. “Look at you, trying to lie to me. It’s cute. There’s no shame in it. Happens to all of us. Guess it’s a side effect of the world we live in.”

“Fine,” Alicia admits. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Do you want to talk about yours?”

Al smiles. “No.”

“Exactly.”

The way Al stares at Alicia unnerves her, and Alicia scowls.

“You got a problem?” Alicia snaps.

“You’re shaking,” Al observes.

“I am not.”

It’s a blatant lie. Al shrugs and stands. She’s still unsteady, but she’s able to cross the van and dig through a duffel bag shoved beneath Alicia’s makeshift bed. Al pulls free a hoodie and pushes it into Alicia’s chest.

“It’s cold in here,” Al says softly. “That tank top won’t help. You should put that on.”

Alicia stares down at the orange University of Texas sweatshirt in her hands. Al continues to stand in her space instead of returning to her side of the van.

“I was supposed to go to Berkeley,” Alicia hears herself say. She chalks it up to her lack of sleep and the fact that it’s the middle of the night. “I was trying to escape my family,” she admits. “I guess that was a normal thing to want, but now…” Alicia shakes her head, keeping her eyes trained on the sweatshirt. “I’d give anything to have them back.”

“I know.”

Alicia inhales deeply, managing to stave off the urge to cry. “Thanks for the sweatshirt,” she mumbles. Putting the sweatshirt on gives Alicia an excuse to step away from Al, and she pulls the hood over her head.

“Alicia.”

“Hmm?”

Alicia turns to face Al again, slightly surprised to see the serious look on Al’s face. “I went to the University of Texas to get away from my family,” Al says. “They’re all dead, too. You can’t blame yourself for wanting to leave.”

Alicia’s throat constricts, so she just nods. “Go lie down,” she says quietly. “You need to rest.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself.”

“You aren’t doing a very good job.”

Alicia grabs Al by the wrist, but Al refuses to budge when Alicia tries to pull her back to her side. Al’s strength catches Alicia off guard, and her eyes lift back to Al’s face. Al carefully pries Alicia’s hand off her wrist, but she doesn’t release Alicia’s hand until Alicia yanks away herself, feeling her face flush.

“You and I got off on the wrong foot,” Al says. “Even though that’s mostly your fault for threatening to kill me when I had good intentions, I’ll take some of the blame for not trying to properly understand what was going on and hiding behind my camera. But I think you and I have a lot more in common than we first thought.”

Alicia nods. Her heart hammers in her throat, and her mouth has gone dry. “Go lie down,” she finally says.

*

The day starts with heavy rain, and neither Charlie nor June are eager to go out in it. They stay in the relative safety of the SUV and radio Al and Alicia to let them know they’re going to hunker down until the storm passes once more.

“How are you feeling?” June asks.

“Better than before,” Al says.

“Are you telling the truth?”

“Why would I lie to you, June?” Al says. “I won’t be running any marathons any time soon, but I can stand up without passing out, so I think that qualifies as _better than before_.”

“She’s such a smartass,” June mutters, just to Charlie. June pushes the button on the walkie down and says, “I’ll keep you updated.”

“We’ll be here,” Al says.

The rain, unfortunately, persists through most of the day. June’s ready to write the day off as a wash when a new voice suddenly starts to come through the walkie.

“June, do you copy? Are you out there?”

June and Charlie both freeze, then June scrambles to grab the walkie off the dashboard. “John? Is that you?” she says.

After a long pause, he answers, “June! It’s me! I’ve been trying to reach you for days!”

“Oh my God,” June whispers. “John! You must be close if you’re only just in range. Where are you?”

“Stay where you are,” John answers. “This rain is nasty. I’ll come to you.”

June remembers what Alicia said about not giving up their location, but it’s _John_ , and surely they’re far enough away from the crazy bitch with the walker pets.

“June,” Charlie warns, but the words are already leaving June’s mouth.

*

“How could he be so stupid?” Luci asks.

“Love makes you stupid,” Strand replies. He flips the page of his magazine, sips his wine. “Nothing we can do about it now except wait.”

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” Luci argues.

Strand waves his arm around and says, “Can you hear the rain? It just keeps coming back, doesn’t it? It’s not safe to travel in that.”

“You just don’t want to go.”

“Also true,” Strand admits. “But Alicia’s still out there, and we can’t leave her. When the storm’s over, we’ll go. Now’s not the time. This place could be it for us. We could stay here, live out the rest of our lives in peace.”

“We’ve said that with every settlement,” Luci snaps. “When has that ever been true?”

Strand shrugs. “Maybe this time will be different.”

*

John drives with a renewed sense of purpose. He’s less than twenty-five miles from June’s position. A little rain isn’t going to slow him down, and neither will the fact that he’s soaked to the bone. He never should’ve left June in the first place, and now, he finally gets to make up for it.

*

By morning, Al’s sweatshirt isn’t enough to keep Alicia warm. The rain’s back, splattering loudly against the van and obscuring Alicia’s view of their surroundings from the windows. A deafening crack of thunder startles Alicia out of sleep, and her hand immediately goes to her neck once more. Just in case.

_You’re okay_ she assures herself. She’s surrounded by an unfamiliar scent, and she pinpoints it to the sweatshirt she barely remembers putting on. While Alicia sorts through her confusion, her eyes land on Al near the back of the van. Al realizes she’s being stared at, but she doesn’t stop vigorously brushing her teeth, just stares back. She cracks the door open enough to spit her mouthful of toothpaste out into the rain.

“You’re staring,” Al says.

“So?” Alicia challenges.

Al shrugs. “It’s impolite to stare.”

“Too bad my mother isn’t here to remind me of basic manners, huh?” Alicia says.

Al raises her hands. “No need to snap at me. I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m used to being stared at by women.”

Alicia scoffs as Al winks at her and takes a seat across from her, wearing a lazy grin.

“Now who’s staring?” Alicia says.

“Orange isn’t your color,” Al replies. “It’s not mine, either, so I don’t know why I kept that sweatshirt. For posterity, maybe. Definitely not to wear.”

“You talk too much,” Alicia says.

“You don’t talk enough.”

“I gave you my story, didn’t I?” Alicia says.

“Part of it.”

“The part you wanted. What more is there to tell?”

Al tilts her head to the side. “Who are you?” she asks. “I know you lost all your family, but that doesn’t tell me much about who you are. What you told me last night – that was about you. That wasn’t something that happened to you; it was something you chose.”

“Why does it matter?” Alicia asks. “That Alicia’s dead.”

“What about this Alicia?”

Alicia smiles wryly and pulls her hands into the sleeves of the sweatshirt, hoping it’ll be enough to warm them. “I don’t know if I like this Alicia yet,” Alicia admits.

Al inhales deeply, exhales, and leans back against the van. “I’ve learned a lot from interviewing people,” she says. “And some people haven’t changed. It’s the craziest thing. Some people become totally different than they were before, and some of us…don’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Take me, for example,” Al says. “My job was my life before the dead walked, and hell, it’s my life now. My life’s a little harder, sure, but not by much. There’s no _Al before the end_ and _Al after the end_ , like the way you just described yourself.”

“So…what? You had a job and you just kept doing it after the world ended,” Alicia says. “So what?”

“So what? It’s who I am. Meeting people, documenting their stories – it means something. The tape of Madison meant something to you, didn’t it?”

Alicia stiffens. “Don’t talk about my mother.”

Al concedes. “What I’m trying to get at is: who are you? What makes the girl that was supposed to attend Berkeley so different from who you are now?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Al grins. “I thought we were becoming friends, Alicia.”

“Keep dreaming. We aren’t friends.”

“Is it something I did? Said?”

Alicia pauses, eyebrows pulling together. “You think we have a lot in common,” Alicia says, “but I don’t see it. So both of our families are dead. Great. That doesn’t mean we share some intimate emotional connection or whatever. Lots of people are dead, lots of people have no one left. What makes you so special?”

“I’m in the unique position to understand your pain better than anyone else who’s lost everyone,” Al says, and she says it with such conviction that Alicia finds herself unable to respond at first.

“Bullshit.”

Al shrugs. “We could help each other,” she says. “But you’ve made it pretty clear you don’t want help. I’ll respect that.”

“You won’t let me help you,” Alicia retorts. “You’ve been all _I can take care of myself_. Why should I let you help me?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“You’re so full of shit, Al.”

Al presses her lips together and nods before she pushes herself to her feet and goes to unlock her safe. She pulls out her camera and her boxes of tapes then dumps them in Alicia’s lap. “I’m full of shit, right?” Al says. “Knock yourself out.”

It’s a trick. Alicia knows it’s a trick, but she doesn’t stop herself from skimming through Al’s tape collection anyway. There are a lot of interesting – and strange – titles, but the thing that catches Alicia’s attention is the fact that one is obviously missing.

“One’s missing,” Alicia says. “Between _The Bog #6_ and _The Bog #8_.”

Al shrugs. “Yeah.”

Alicia’s eyes narrow. “Where is it?”

“Not there, obviously.”

Alicia sets the tapes aside and stands. “What’s the point of all this?” she demands.

“You should watch some of those,” Al says. “See what I see. Maybe you’ll find something of value in them.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Al thinks this over and says, “You know what? You’re right.” She collects the tapes and the camera and places them back in the safe, but Al doesn’t lock it.

Alicia finds herself jumping to her feet, blocking Al from moving past her. “You wanna know what makes this Alicia so different from the Alicia that was going to attend Berkeley?” Alicia asks, hands braced on her hips. Al doesn’t back out of Alicia’s space, doesn’t show any sign of discomfort at how close they are.

“Sure.”

“The Alicia that was supposed to attend Berkeley never killed anyone,” Alicia spits. “She had a family and a boyfriend who loved her. She had plans for the future. She was _happy_.”

“And you’re not,” Al says.

Alicia hesitates. She takes a step back. “How could I be?” she mutters. “How can anyone be happy in this world?”

“I don’t know.”

Alicia scoffs. “Right. You’re in the unique position to understand my pain better than anyone. It’s such bullshit.”

“Just because I don’t have an answer to your question doesn’t mean I don’t understand how you feel,” Al says. She motions toward Alicia’s side of the van. “Take a seat. We can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” Alicia says. She fights her way out of the orange University of Texas sweatshirt and pushes it into Al’s chest. “You can have that back.”

“You’re gonna freeze. Keep it,” Al argues.

“I don’t want it.”

Al grabs Alicia by the arm, but Alicia yanks free immediately, baring her teeth. Al holds the sweatshirt out. “Come on,” Al says gently. “It won’t get warmer, and we don’t have any diesel to heat the van.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it smells like you –” Al’s laughter interrupts Alicia, and Alicia’s face sets into a scowl as she adds loudly, “and that’s weird!”

“The fact that this sweatshirt smells like me is the least of our problems,” Al says, shaking her head. “Unless it’s a bad thing.”

“No, you smell fine – hey! I just mean, I don’t want to smell like someone else. June and Charlie are gonna come back and think –”

“Oh, so you’re worried about what they’ll think?”

“Aren’t you?”

Al grins. “I’m in no shape to try to come onto you right now, Alicia. I’m not worried about what they think or don’t think is going on here.”

Alicia snatches the sweatshirt out of Al’s hand and glares at her. “Fine,” Alicia grumbles. “I’ll wear the stupid sweatshirt.”

Before Alicia can respond, June’s voice comes across the walkie to update them. It’s still not good news; the rain prevents them from looking for diesel.

“Looks like we’re alone together for another day,” Alicia says sourly.

“Great,” Al replies. “That gives us plenty of time to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Then I guess we’ll sit here in silence.”

*

Charlie makes a face as June launches herself into John’s arms. She gets that they’re in love, and they were separated and worried sick about each other, but she doesn’t want to witness their reunion. One, it’s kind of awkward, and two, she feels like she’s intruding on a private moment. They must really love each other, though, because they’re standing out in the pouring rain while Charlie stays nice and dry in the car.

Charlie looks away from John and June to search for the walkie. After a moment, she remembers June shoved it into the glove box. Charlie digs it out and tries to call for Alicia.

“Alicia, are you there? It’s Charlie.”

Charlie gives her a minute before repeating the call. It takes three tries, but Alicia eventually picks up.

“Charlie? Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” Charlie says. “Something good. We found John.”

“That’s great,” Alicia says, but her voice sounds oddly strained. “That’s really great, Charlie.”

“Yeah, but they’re being gross,” Charlie says. “Like, kissing and stuff out in the rain. I know, I know, I should let them have a moment.”

“Yes, but then you guys really need to find diesel. We can’t keep sitting here doing nothing.”

“I know,” Charlie says. She pauses. “Hey, Alicia?”

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know if you heard earlier…but June and John gave up their locations.”

There’s a long pause before Alicia says, “And you’re still there?”

“We’re close.”

“You need to go,” Alicia insists. “You can’t stay there.”

“Tell that to June! I can’t drive.”

“God, Charlie! That bitch is still out there, and Al doesn’t completely have her strength back yet!”

“I know!”

“We’ll figure it out,” Alicia says. “Just – stay safe.”

“Yeah, you too.”

*

“Get up!”

Luci smacks Strand’s arm with a rolled up magazine, and his eyes pop open. “What the hell?” Strand blurts.

“We’re leaving,” Luci says. “The cabin will still be here when we get back.”

“It’s raining.”

“So what?” Luci snaps. “Our friends are out there. Pack your shit.”

“I am _not_ walking in the rain.”

“Then I’ll find them myself.”

“Luci, that’s insane –”

“Then get up, and let’s go.”

Strand rolls off the couch, grunting. “Fine,” he says. “But our priority is Alicia.”

“Obviously.”

Strand nods. “One more glass of wine.”

“Strand!”

*

John barely even notices the rain while he’s got June in his arms. He could stand here for the rest of his life, as long as June was with him. He’s lucky the rain’s so heavy, because he thinks he might be crying. June definitely is.

He doesn’t know how much time has gone by when Charlie cracks the door open and shouts, “Hey! I spoke to Alicia, and we need to move!”

“We’ve got time!” John calls.

“We really have to go,” Charlie insists. “Please.”

“Let’s go back to the car, honey,” June says. She slowly begins to release her hold on John, taking his hand instead. “The van ran out of diesel, and we still need to find more.”

John nods and adjusts his soaked hat. “Alright, then,” he agrees. “Lead the way.”

Charlie climbs into the backseat to make room for John while June gets behind the wheel.

“What’s wrong?” June asks.

“What? Nothing,” Charlie says, too quickly.

“Hmm. Right. What did Alicia say?”

Charlie hesitates. “She’s just worried about that lady that came after us with – with Morgan.”

“Morgan’s here?” John asks, eyes lighting up.

Charlie looks to June, and June purses her lips. “Oh, sweetheart,” June says.

*

Alicia stares out the back window of the van, but she can’t see anything through the torrential rain. She resists the urge to pace back and forth up the aisle; Al’s already told her off twice.

“How can you just sit there?” Alicia blurts.

“What?” Al says. Her eyes lift from the book in her lap.

“How are you not going insane from just laying around?”

Al slowly shuts her book. “Well, I’m still mildly sick.”

“But you’re still trapped in here. How can you take it?”

“Alicia, I live here. I’m used to it.”

“Well, I’m not!”

“Okay, hey,” Al says warily. She swings her legs off the seats and gets to her feet, making sure she’s steady before she approaches Alicia. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“That bitch is still out there, and we’re just sitting here,” Alicia exclaims. “And June and John announced their location on the walkie, and they have Charlie with them –”

“Since when do you care about what happens to Charlie?” Al asks.

Alicia glares at her. “You don’t know what happened.”

“Here’s an idea: you could tell me. I mean, you went from wanting the kid dead to worrying about what happens to her.”

“It’s none of your business,” Alicia snaps.

“I know if someone killed my brother, I’d –”

Alicia doesn’t even think, just grabs a fistful of the front of Al’s shirt and slams her against the wall. “ _Don’t_ you _dare_ talk about my brother,” Alicia hisses, right next to Al’s face. “Like you know _anything_ about him –”

“My brother’s dead, too,” Al interrupts. “He died at the very beginning of everything.”

Alicia falters. Her grip on the front of Al’s shirt loosens, and Al easily pries her fingers off. She doesn’t release Alicia’s hand, though, holding it in the small space between their bodies. “What?” Alicia whispers.

“You noticed the missing tape,” Al says softly. “ _The Bog #7._ That’s all I have left of him.”

“I don’t – I don’t think I –”

“I told you, everyone I loved is dead, too,” Al says. “And I had a brother, too. His name was Jesse.”

“Oh, _God_ ,” Alicia chokes out. “What am I _doing_?”

“Hey, it’s okay –”

Alicia yanks her hand free of Al’s and steps back. “Nothing’s okay, Al! Don’t even give me that bullshit.”

Al catches Alicia’s wrist before she can try to walk away, holding her in place. “Why are you still trying to run away, Alicia?” Al murmurs. “Why can’t you just face reality?”

“Everyone is _dead_!” Alicia shouts. She breaks Al’s hold on her wrist and shoves her, hard, forcing her to stumble back. “How am I supposed to – to move on? Everyone’s dead.”

Alicia drops back onto the seats, covering her face with her hands. Al inhales deeply. “Not everyone,” Al says quietly. “Not everyone is dead yet.”

“Just – just stop,” Alicia pleads. “Stop trying to help me. Stop trying to – just stop.”

Al nods, even though Alicia can’t see her. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll stop.”

Alicia spends the rest of the day lying down, facing the van, keeping her back to Al. They don’t talk. June doesn’t check in again. The rain stops sometime overnight. Alicia wakes up early to the sound of something rhythmically pounding on the back of the van. She lifts her head, squinting against the light streaming into the van, and spots Al asleep across from her.

It’s probably a stray walker. Alicia gets up, yawning, and grabs her gun barrel. She hesitates just a moment then knocks the gun barrel against the seats near Al’s head.

“Hey,” Alicia says as Al jolts awake. “There’s a walker out there. I’m gonna kill it.”

“You had to wake me up to tell me?”

“Just in case I die or something,” Alicia quips.

Al snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“I do _not_ want to be eaten alive, thanks.”

“Make it fast.”

Alicia smirks. “I’m practically a professional walker killer by now.”

She’s still looking back at Al, both of them grinning, when she unlocks the back doors. Just as she turns to face the walker, it’s pushed forward, and it gets a handful of Alicia’s shirt and yanks her down the steps.

“Alicia!” Al shouts, flinging her blankets aside. She gets up too quickly, causing her head to spin, and she barely manages to catch herself against the side of the van.

“Miss me?” Martha says. Alicia bares her teeth, unable to respond. All her energy goes toward holding the walker off. She has the gun barrel jammed against its neck, and that’s just enough to keep the walker at bay. This one is a man with red hair, and he also has something written on his forehead. Alicia can’t make out the words. Her eyes shift briefly from the walker’s face to Martha’s shoulder – the one that took the bullet from Charlie. Alicia has seen a lot of nasty shit in her admittedly relatively short life, but this is something else entirely. Martha didn’t bother to even try to treat the wound. It’s still open, festering. It looks like the kind of wound you’d see on a fresh walker, not a living person.

Alicia promises herself that, if she gets out of this alive, she’s sleeping with the Glock on her at all times.

“Where’s the little girl that was with you?” Martha questions. She smiles wickedly. “She must be with your other friends. You know, maybe I should go find them. They _did_ broadcast their location to everyone that might be listening, after all. They’ll end up like your other friend. _Morgan_. They’re only a few miles away.”

“If you hurt them, I will personally –” Alicia hisses, but she’s cut off by Martha’s booming laughter. The laughter quickly morphs into a wet sounding cough, and Alicia tries to take advantage of it. She uses the gun barrel to try to heave the walker off of her, but a gunshot rings out, and the walker goes limp. Martha looks over in shock as Al raises her rifle. Al has to lean against the doorway of the van to stay upright, but she has a steady grip on the rifle, aiming the barrel at Martha’s head.

“I’d back away, if I were you,” Al breathes. She nods toward the dead walker pinning Alicia to the ground. “Take your pet with you.”

Martha sneers but drags the walker off of Alicia, dumping him onto the pavement. “You gonna shoot an unarmed lady, Al?”

Al bristles, glancing toward Alicia, as if she knows why Martha knows her name. Al readjusts her grip on the rifle, scowling at Martha. “You killed my friend,” Al says.

“Morgan?” Martha shakes her head. “You don’t _need_ him, Al. He was weak. You – you are _not_ weak. You’re strong.”

“What does that even mean?” Al growls.

Martha smiles. “I think you know what I mean, Al.”

“I really don’t, but I also don’t take advice from random whackos with unhealed gunshot wounds.”

“I like you, Al,” Martha says. “You don’t make people weak.”

“Lady, I don’t know what that means,” Al says. “Just back off, and I won’t shoot you.”

Alicia gets to her feet. Her forearms sting where she scraped them on the pavement. Blood trickles down her arms toward her fingers, but she stands defensively, inching closer to the van. Martha wouldn’t dare come at her while Al’s pointing a gun at her, not when she doesn’t have a weapon of her own.

“Go,” Al commands. “Walk away.”

Martha smiles again and nods, holding her hands up in a surrender gesture. “Alright, Al. I get it. You’ve got the gun. You win.”

“Go,” Al snarls.

Martha takes a step back, hands still raised. Alicia dares to glance toward Al, but Al doesn’t waver, doesn’t lower the gun. A bead of blood drops from Alicia’s fingertip and splashes on the pavement by her boot.

Everything else happens fast.

*

“How did you find this place?” June asks.

John smiles, adjusts his hat, and continues to pump diesel into the can. “Luck, maybe,” he answers. “This should be enough to get us out of here, don’t you think?”

“It’s more than enough,” June agrees. “We’ve got to get back to Al and Alicia. Al’s sick –”

“We’ll get back,” John assures her. “Al will be fine. Alicia will take care of her.”

June frowns. “I don’t know,” she says. “They don’t seem to get along too well.”

John laughs. “That’s just because they’re so similar. They just can’t see it.”

“I think Al sees it,” June says. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against their car. Charlie’s asleep in the backseat, unaware of their find.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t think she knows how to approach Alicia.”

“Alicia’s a tough cookie,” John says. “I don’t blame Al.”

“I don’t, either, but –”

“But what?” John asks.

June shakes her head. “But Alicia needs someone who understands what she’s been through, and I think that could be Al.”

“Now, honey, don’t try to interfere with their business,” John warns. “If they don’t want to be friends, you can’t force them.”

“I know that,” June says. She cracks a smile. “But why can’t I try to nudge them in the right direction?”

John sighs heavily. “If we’re lucky, we’ll get back to the van and they’ll be best friends so you don’t have to do any nudging.”

June laughs. “That’s unlikely.”

“Unlikely, but not impossible.” John finishes filling the final can with diesel and loads the cans into the trunk. “You ready to head back?”

June grabs his wrist, stopping him from getting back into the car. “John,” she says. “I know – Morgan was your friend. I’m sure you’re upset, even if you don’t want to –”

“I’m fine,” John interrupts. He covers June’s hand with his own and musters up a smile. “Or I’ll be fine.”

June purses her lips but nods. “If you want to talk, I’m sure Al and Alicia can survive an extra twenty minutes without us.”

“It’s okay,” John says. “Besides, I didn’t even really know him that well.”

“He was your friend.”

John lowers his head, hat shielding his face. He squeezes June’s hand. “Yeah. He was my friend. But there’s nothing to be done about it now except…move on.”

June pulls him into a hug and holds on tight.

*

“Why do you know how to drive a motorcycle?” Luci shouts over the roar of the engine.

Strand glances back, grinning. “I have many talents, Luci,” he says.

“That’s not a good answer!”

Strand chuckles. “I dated a guy with a motorcycle once, a while back.”

They hit a particularly nasty bump, and Luci tightens her hold around Strand’s waist. “A guy with a motorcycle, huh?”

“He was having a mid-life crisis,” Strand dismisses. “This motorcycle is much nicer than his was.”

Luci doesn’t know jack shit about motorcycles, but Strand seems confident in his abilities to drive it without killing them both. Too bad they didn’t find any helmets with the abandoned vehicle. Luci really doesn’t want to die because her brains splattered across the pavement in an accident.

Neither Luci nor Strand ask the unspoken question hanging in the air between them: how in the _hell_ are they supposed to find their friends? Even the direction they chose to travel in is at best an educated guess. John _probably_ would’ve gone this way when he took off. _Maybe_ Alicia and Charlie are somewhere out in this direction.

Luci hates leaving things to chance, but she doesn’t have a better idea. She just wishes they’d found, like, a sports car instead so she could nap while Strand drove. They hit another bump, and Luci squeezes her eyes shut, gritting her teeth. Strand weaves around scattered debris in the road, and Luci figures it’s best if she just doesn’t open her eyes until they’re off the motorcycle. They’re probably doing ninety. She tries not to imagine what would happen to a human body that hit concrete at this speed.

“Don’t kill us,” Luci says into Strand’s ear.

“Sweetheart, I’m not intending to,” he replies. “Just hang on. We’ll find them in no time.”

Luci thinks it’s much more likely they’ll run out of gas first, but she keeps this thought to herself. If Strand wants to be confident, let him. Luci just wants her friends back.

*

Martha rushes forward, grabbing hold of the rifle’s barrel and shoving it upward. Al fires a shot off, and Alicia flinches, immediately thinking of the kind of attention that shot could bring them while they’re trapped in a van with no diesel. Alicia acts without thinking, grabbing a fistful of Martha’s shirt and trying to yank her back away from Al, trying to give Al enough space to get the rifle pointed at Martha. Martha swings back, fist catching Alicia in the face, and Alicia stumbles back as the taste of blood starts to fill her mouth.

Alicia goes back in, eyes set on the rifle – the one thing that will determine who’s going to live. Alicia gets her hands on the rifle, and before Martha can take another swing at her, Al lets go of the rifle. Alicia nearly screams until she realizes what Al’s doing.

Al jams her thumb into the open wound in Martha’s shoulder. Martha screeches the way Alicia probably would if a walker ever bit into her. Martha falls back, leaving the rifle in Alicia’s hand as she howls.

Alicia doesn’t think.

The first shot misses, hitting Martha in the neck. Martha’s eyes widen, but her scream is cut short. Alicia winces and fires again, this time hitting the mark. Martha may have killed Morgan – and who knows how many others – in the name of making people strong, but Alicia doesn’t want to watch her suffer. She’s seen enough of that.

The rifle clatters to the ground, and Alicia begins to fall. Alicia doesn’t know how Al manages to get her under the arms to prevent her from joining the rifle on the concrete. Al staggers under Alicia’s weight and ends up lowering her to the ground anyway. Calmly, Alicia turns her head to the side and spits a mouthful of blood out, grimacing. She must’ve bit down on the inside of her cheek when Martha hit her.

“Alicia, you’ve got to get up,” Al says quietly. “Walkers will be coming.”

Alicia grabs a fistful of Al’s shirt and looks her in the eye. Alicia finds nothing she’s looking for there. No remorse, no sadness, no regret or guilt – Al’s eyes hold nothing but concern for Alicia. Alicia holds onto Al’s shirt so tightly, her hand shakes.

“I wanted to kill her,” Alicia whispers. “I wanted to kill her, and I did.”

“It was her or us,” Al says. “Come on, we have to go inside, and you’re bleeding –”

“You don’t _get it_ ,” Alicia cuts in. Tears prick her eyes, but she blinks it away impatiently. “I _wanted_ to kill her, Al. And I’m so tired of wanting to kill people.”

“You had to kill her, or we’d be dead.”

“I’m tired of having to kill people, too,” Alicia says. Her jaw clenches as Al pries Alicia’s hand open and smooths her shirt out.

“Come on,” Al says softly. “If we’re inside before the walkers see us, they should pass right by.”

Alicia nods and picks up the rifle. Al quickly takes it from her and sets it inside then returns to get Alicia on her feet. Al has to guide Alicia up the steps and into the van. She helps Alicia sit before she rushes to gets the doors shut and locked, quietly, before the walkers notice them.

Al digs out a first aid kit and splashes some antiseptic onto a pad of gauze. Al crouches in front of Alicia and holds her hand out toward her. “Give me your arm. Please,” Al says.

Alicia does as she’s told, staring absently past Al as Al cleans up the large scrapes on Alicia’s forearms.

“She didn’t hurt you, did she?” Alicia asks.

“No,” Al says. “She didn’t touch me.”

Alicia nods. “Good.”

“Are you okay?” Al asks. She finishes Alicia’s arms and turns her eyes to Alicia’s face. Al touches her fingertips to the spot on Alicia’s jaw where Martha’s fist had clipped her. Alicia flinches away from Al’s hand.

“I’m fine.”

Al presses her lips together. She stands, nudging the first aid kit aside, then takes a tentative seat beside Alicia. Alicia still doesn’t look at her, even as Al studies the bruise that’s beginning to form on her face.

“I saw you spit blood,” Al informs. “That doesn’t sound like _fine_ to me.”

“I bit my cheek,” Alicia says. “It’s superficial.”

“Okay.”

Alicia stares down at her arms, at the bandages wrapped around them. Maybe if she hadn’t taken Al’s University of Texas sweatshirt off before going to bed, she wouldn’t have scraped them so badly when she fell. Still, she’ll take scrapes over a bite any day. She was cold, but she couldn’t bear to sleep in that sweatshirt again. Not while it smells like Al.

“I had a dream,” Alicia hears herself say. Her voice sounds distant to her own ears. “The other night, while you were still pretty sick.”

“The nightmare that you didn’t want to talk about,” Al says.

Alicia hesitates. “Yes,” she answers. “It was about you.”

Al stiffens but nods. “Go on.”

“You died, but I couldn’t – I don’t know. I couldn’t put you down. Which is stupid. I would – I mean, I know I would do it, if I had to. But in the dream…I didn’t.”

Al inhales deeply. “Yeah. I have those, too.”

“What?” Alicia says. She finally turns and meets Al’s gaze. “You – what?”

“Yeah. Someone becomes a walker, and for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to kill them before they kill you. I have those, too.”

Alicia’s lips part as the cogs in her brain turn. “You…have them, too?”

Al smiles. “A lot of people probably do. I mean, if you put down enough of the people you love –”

“Don’t,” Alicia says. Her eyes close, jaw clenches.

“Don’t what?” Al asks softly.

“Don’t tell me your sob story, please. I don’t – I can’t handle it.”

“Okay,” Al says gently. She reaches over and grasps onto Alicia’s knee. “But you’re not alone.”

Alicia presses the heels of her hands against her eyes and inhales shakily. Before Al can say anything, Alicia whispers, “All I can do is kill people, Al. That’s all I’m good at now. I was supposed to go to Berkeley and get married and – and have a life. I was supposed to do something, but all I can do is kill.”

“You do what it takes to survive,” Al says. She releases Alicia’s knee and grasps onto her shoulder instead. “You can’t fault yourself for that.”

“I didn’t kill Charlie,” Alicia says. Slowly, she lowers her hands from her eyes and looks to Al again. Al tries to cover her stunned expression quickly as she sees Alicia’s eyes swimming in tears. “I didn’t kill her, but I wanted to. I had – I had the fucking gun pointed at her head. I was going to do it.”

“You didn’t.”

“But I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t,” Al says, tightening her hold on Alicia’s shoulder.

“I was ready to kill a _child_. And for what? It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“You didn’t kill her,” Al says. The first tears spill over, and Alicia swipes at them impatiently, lower lip trembling. “You’re a good person, Alicia.”

“How would you know?” Alicia scoffs, barely holding back a full on sob.

“Bad people don’t worry about who they kill or why they kill. There are a lot of bad people left in the world, Alicia. You aren’t one of them.”

Alicia does sob this time, grabbing onto Al’s shoulders to try to steady herself. Instead, she falls into Al’s arms. She feels Al’s muscles tense beneath her, but Al’s arms still encircle her, Al still lets her sob into her chest until she calms herself down. Al doesn’t speak again until Alicia pulls it together, breathing deeply.

“Alicia, you’re freezing.”

“I’m not,” Alicia whispers.

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m not cold.”

She doesn’t know how she could be cold. With her face pressed to Al’s neck, she’s practically in Al’s lap with Al’s arms still around her, and Al is warm. Too warm, almost.

“You should drink water. Lie down.”

“You should,” Alicia retorts weakly. “Aren’t you still sick?”

“I’m better. The cholera or malaria or dengue fever or whatever passed.”

Alicia stifles a laugh into Al’s shirt, and she likes to think maybe Al’s smiling. “I should let go of you,” Alicia says.

“You should.”

There’s a pause, but Alicia doesn’t move. She doesn’t really want to. She must be losing it, because she’s starting to find Al’s scent comforting. She’s almost afraid to pull away.

“Are you gonna let go?” Al asks softly.

“You can’t tell the others what happened,” Alicia says.

“I won’t.”

“We’ll just say Martha came after us, and I killed her. That’s it.”

“That’s it,” Al agrees. “But I doubt they’ll ask questions. It sounded like the walkers made a nice meal of her.”

Alicia makes a face. “God, don’t remind me.”

“Sorry,” Al laughs.

Alicia pulls back, bracing her hands on Al’s shoulders. She doesn’t feel steady, but maybe that’s because crying took all the energy she had left right out of her. Her arms still sting a bit beneath their bandages, and she can still faintly taste blood in her mouth.

“You alright?” Al asks. She brings her hand up to Alicia’s face, brushes her knuckles against her cheek, grazes her thumb over the bruise left behind by Martha. Alicia’s eyes close.

“Fine,” Alicia says.

“You sure?”

“No,” Alicia admits. “But I don’t really have a choice. I have to be fine.”

“Alicia –”

“No,” Alicia says in a voice that’s hardly audible. “If I’m not fine, I’ll end up like Morgan. And I really don’t want to end up like Morgan, okay?”

“You won’t end up like him.”

“Because he was weak and I’m not?” Alicia mutters.

“No. Because I won’t let it happen.”

Alicia’s eyes open and lock with Al’s. Al’s hand still lingers on her cheek. Alicia’s hands slip from Al’s shoulders, press against her upper chest instead. “Maybe it doesn’t even matter,” Alicia says. “Everyone else is dead.”

“I lose people, and then I lose myself,” Al says.

Alicia’s eyebrows pull together. “What –”

“It was written on Morgan’s face,” Al reminds. “I lied. I know what it means. He said that to me when I first interviewed him, when I told him to tell me something real. I asked why he left Virginia, and that was his answer.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Alicia admits.

“I don’t think I understood it, either.”

Whatever Alicia intends to say dies in her throat when her eyes meet Al’s. Al raises her eyebrows like she expects Alicia to say something, though, so Alicia swallows hard and asks, “How do you do it? If everyone you love is dead…how do you keep living?”

“The stories,” Al says. “Talking to people, getting their stories keeps me going. You just…you gotta find something, otherwise you might as well put a bullet in your brain, right? I’d be lying if I said I’ve never thought about it.”

“But – you don’t stay with people,” Alicia says.

“I didn’t,” Al agrees. “There hasn’t been anyone worth staying with.” Al smiles. “I think maybe that’s changed.”

Alicia’s heart hammers in her throat, but she still slides her hands from Al’s chest up to her neck and pulls herself in. Alicia thinks she’s read the situation correctly, because Al’s hands land at her waist, and she kisses her back until Alicia has to pull away to breathe.

“You better hope what I have isn’t contagious,” Al teases.

“I would’ve had it by now,” Alicia replies. “Thanks for ruining the moment, though.”

“We were having a moment?”

They both laugh, and Alicia pushes Al by the chest and slides away. “You’re not funny,” Alicia says.

Al grins. “You laughed.”

Before Alicia can reply, the walkie crackles across the van.

“Alicia? John? Does anybody copy?”

Alicia’s eyes widen. She looks to Al, but Al just motions toward the walkie. “Yes, I copy,” Alicia answers breathlessly. “Luci?”

“Alicia! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m with Al. Where are you?”

*

Alicia and Al step out of the van to greet John, June, and Charlie as their car rolls up. June steps out before the car fully stops moving and rushes straight over to Al. She makes a point of pressing the back of her hand to Al’s forehead before hugging her, in spite of Al’s good-natured protest.

“I’m fine, June,” Al laughs. “It’s not malaria.”

“I’m sorry we took so long,” June says, pulling back from the embrace.

Al waves her off. “We were fine.”

Al goes to hug John as June turns to Alicia. Alicia fidgets and crosses her arms over her chest. She tells herself she put the University of Texas sweatshirt back on to hide her bandaged arms from June, but the bruise on her face is hard to miss.

“Something happened?” June asks.

“Something,” Alicia says. “We handled it.”

June nods. “You’re alright?”

Alicia tugs the sleeve up just enough to flash one of the bandages. “We handled it,” Alicia repeats. “We’re good.”

June nods. She glances over her shoulder at Al and John as Al claps Charlie on the shoulder and welcomes her back. “Thanks for watching out for her,” June says.

Alicia manages a smile. “It was – we were fine.”

“Let’s get some diesel in the van,” John announces. June goes to help him, and Alicia makes her way over to Al and Charlie.

“You alright?” Alicia asks.

Charlie nods. “Fine. You?”

Alicia smiles. “Fine.”

“Your face,” Charlie says. She touches her fingers to her own face, mirroring where the bruise on Alicia’s face is. “What happened?”

“Martha showed up,” Alicia admits. She keeps her voice low, though she doubts John or June can hear her. “We took care of it. We’re lucky you shot her, actually.”

Charlie nods solemnly. “I guess that explains that pile of bones over there.”

Alicia stifles a laugh into her hand while Al turns to look. “You’re too observant, kid,” Al says, knocking her fist into Charlie’s arm. Charlie shrugs and says something Alicia doesn’t pay attention to. Alicia turns to face the road, lips parted, as the roar of an engine gets closer.

“Guys,” Alicia says, grabbing onto Al’s arm.

“What?” Al says.

“Someone’s coming.”

“I’ll get the rifle.”

“Wait,” Alicia says, tugging Al back. “I think –”

Instead of finishing her sentence, Alicia takes off running toward the motorcycle. She ignores Al when she yells for her to come back. The motorcycle comes to a stop, and Luci hops off the back and jumps straight into Alicia’s arms. Strand kills the engine and walks over, stepping into the embrace when Alicia and Luci each lift an arm.

“We made it,” Strand says.

“And there’s a place we can go,” Luci adds.

Alicia squeezes her eyes shut and murmurs, “Can we just take a moment?”

*

“I’ll be sad to leave her behind,” Strand says.

“Oh, get over it,” Luci sighs. “It’s a motorcycle, for God’s sake.”

“A good motorcycle.”

Luci shakes her head and pushes Strand toward the van. “You don’t need a motorcycle,” Luci tells him. “All it did was draw walkers to us from miles around.”

“But we were faster.”

Luci shushes him. “Let them have their moment.”

Alicia doesn’t feel like she belongs here. She barely knows John, even though she shot him, and she still feels mildly betrayed by June, even though the stadium’s fall wasn’t exactly her fault. But Alicia stands by as Al and Charlie say goodbye to John and June. As soon as June pulls away from Al, she motions for Alicia to follow her. They don’t go far, just a few steps away, but June leans in and lowers her voice.

“Take care of her, okay?”

Alicia nods. “I will.”

“Good,” June says. She grasps onto Alicia’s shoulder. “Strand and Luci will know where to find us if something goes wrong.”

“Hopefully nothing goes wrong,” Alicia says.

“Fingers crossed,” June says. “And take care of Charlie, too, okay?”

“Someone’s got to.”

June nods and rejoins John. Alicia stands with Al and Charlie to watch as John and June get back in their car and drive off in the direction of the cabin. Alicia waits until the car is out of sight before she directs Charlie and Al back to the van.

“You good?” Alicia asks Al once Charlie’s out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Al says gruffly. “They’ll be fine. Better than fine, probably.”

“They’ll be happy,” Alicia says.

Al nods. “So will we,” she says. Al offers Charlie a hand up into the back of the van then shuts the back doors behind her. Al smiles then leans down to gently press her lips against the bruise on Alicia’s face. “Come on,” Al says. “It’s time to go.”

Al gets behind the wheel as Alicia hauls herself up into the passenger’s seat. She twists around to look at Luci, Strand, and Charlie in the back and smiles to herself. The engine roars to life, and Al grins, patting the steering wheel. The van starts down the road in the opposite direction as John and June.

“I didn’t know you went to the University of Texas,” Strand says, motioning to Alicia.

Alicia looks down at the orange sweatshirt and feels her face heat up as Al transforms her sudden burst of laughter into an unconvincing cough. “I didn’t,” Alicia mumbles.

“Oh,” Strand says. “Then why – _oh_.”

“Strand,” Luci chastises, smacking him in the arm. “Leave her alone.”

“Hey, to each their own,” he says, holding his hands up.

“It was cold in here, okay?” Alicia snaps. Her face burns red, though, and Strand grins and waggles his eyebrows at her.

“I bet you found a way to stay warm.”

“Strand!” Luci snaps. “There is a child.”

“If she doesn’t know by now, she will soon.”

“Oh my God,” Alicia moans, covering her face with her hands. “Guys, can we not? Please?”

“Only if you tell us what we missed,” Strand replies.

“Strand!” Luci and Alicia exclaim. Al laughs, and Charlie looks around the van.

“Wait,” Charlie says. “I don’t get it.”

Everyone laughs, except Charlie, and Luci says something about filling her in when she gets older. A smile stays on Al’s face long after the laughter ends, even as Alicia pouts and crosses her arms over her chest. Al reaches over, holding her hand out, and after a moment of hesitation, Alicia slips her fingers through Al’s. Alicia braces herself for a smartass comment from one of her friends, but if they notice, they don’t say anything. Alicia lifts her eyes to Al’s face, and when Al catches her staring, Al throws Alicia a wink and smirks.

Alicia rolls her eyes, but she tightens her hold on Al’s hand.

“So, who wants to leave Texas?” Al calls.

“Where would we go?” Strand asks.

“Well,” Al says, “When I first met Morgan, he said something about a settlement in Virginia.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


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